On Ghostly Tides
by The Insatiable Quinn
Summary: To most splicers the Sitter is just another ghostly legend echoed through the tunnels of Rapture. Who is she really? Is it true she tears down all in her path, Daddies and splicers alike, to save Little Sisters? And why is Atlas looking for her? No yaoi.
1. Chapter 01

I do not own any part of BioShock. Some characters in this fanfiction are OCs.

This fanfiction is rated M for language, adult content, violence, and mortal peril. ;)

Surely thunder filled that hallway on the eve of 1959. Artemis remembered the sound was deafening, though none of the dozens trudging forward uttered a word. Atlas would have told her it was just their footsteps on the metal reverberating around them; but she never got to ask him about it. He had stopped before the door that led to Kashmir and, tonight, would lead to the first battle in a bloody civil war.

With all these eyes looking to Atlas and to her, she could never let on how nervous she was. Though she had spent many long evenings planning this uprising with the mysterious Atlas she could not shake the feeling that something about this wasn't right. How many times had she asked him why it had to be a restaurant? Surely it would make more sense to attack Ryan, someone with real power, than the wealthy but blissfully oblivious upper class of Rapture? But Atlas had insisted this was the only way, and Artemis trusted him completely.

Seeming to sense her unrest, Atlas turned to Artemis and gently grabbed her chin so that she found she could not evade his gaze. His grey eyes were so pale she could see the green of her own eyes reflected there. She found images flashing through her mind: the previous night when she had asked him what to do if he was killed; how he had chuckled at the frightened look on her face; when he'd said he loved those moments when she let her stoic façade slip away; and then the kiss she had been imagining since the night she met him. He did not kiss her now, but his other hand brushed a loose lock of hair behind her ear.

Atlas stood still for a moment, as if bracing himself, then turned to face his army. His thick Irish accent rolled out like a soft fog around those nearest him.

"Months of planning. Years of suffering. All have led up to this moment. When you walk through that door you will be confronted with your fellow citizens; human beings whose blood must be spilt to match the blood and sweat we have lost to our labors. Nothing can prepare a man to kill. You will be tempted to show mercy – don't! What mercy have they shown us? What kindness? And after all that, we are to repay them with true kindness – that they might die in blissful ignorance of the monsters they are! So, my friends, would you kindly put these sods out of their misery?"

Atlas's army roared with approval. Artemis wondered briefly what the patrons in Kashmir must think, but then the door was open and she was being shunted through it towards a revolution.

Try as she might, Artemis could never clearly remember the hours that had followed. Vague images of blood spattered walls, the cries of the wounded, the shouts of Ryan's men as they burst onto the scene, and the arms around her that carried her away, away from death and from Atlas, from glory and salvation. She had fought those arms until she felt a needle in her neck, and then she fell unconscious. A week later she awoke to find that she had been drugged and dragged to Rapture Records by its owner, Silas Cobb.

"What the hell were you thinking?" she yelled.

"What the hell were _you _thinking? You could have been killed!" Silas slammed a tray down next her. It contained a bowl of cereal, a glass of juice and a banana. For some reason, this gesture made Artemis even angrier.

"I damn well know I could have been killed; it was a risk I chose to take. What were you, trying to show off? Save a damsel in distress, like always? Ever a bloody prince, you are. I'm sick of you meddling in my life, Silas!" She picked up the banana, aiming it Silas's head, but then she realized how desperately hungry she was and began peeling it instead.

"Maybe if I thought you could handle your life I wouldn't need to meddle! Off plotting against Ryan with this Atlas character, honestly! What would your poor mother say?"

"My poor mother can't say anything, can she? Worked to death, wouldn't you know! I reckon she'd have been proud, though, proud that I would fight for the freedom Ryan promised us all and then just as quickly robbed us of." Artemis shoved the banana in her mouth angrily, biting off half and resisting the urge to pitch the rest at Silas's face.

"Maybe she would be," said Silas, gazing at the foot of the bed thoughtfully. "Well. Eat up, at least. No doubt you'd like to recuperate enough to yell at me some more."

"Don't worry about that. Soon as I feel okay to walk, that's exactly what I'm doing. Right out that door."

"Be forewarned, there are splicers out there. A lot of them."

Artemis paused, her spoon halfway to her mouth. "Splicers, here in Fort Frolic? It's getting that bad, is it?"

"Well I reckon this civil war Atlas is waging has shaken them up out of the woodwork. That's right, far as I know he's still alive and the fighting is still on." Silas looked thoroughly dejected at the obvious lift in Artemis's mood when she heard this news.

"Hmm. I've dealt with splicers before. I'll get out, no problem." She gulped down her glass of juice and began munching on the banana peel.

"You'll have a tougher time with Cohen. Man's gone mad. He keeps going on about how no one appreciates him anymore. Well, he's got Fort Frolic all shut up, can't get in or out. Looks like you'll be with me for a while." And with a devilish grin, Silas stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked out of the room, whistling happily.

Artemis pitched the empty serial bowl after him, but it missed his head and shattered against the wall. She turned over on her side and pulled the covers closer around her.

"Fuck."


	2. Chapter 2

I do not own any part of BioShock. Some characters in this fanfiction are OCs.

This fanfiction is rated M for language, adult content, violence, and mortal peril. ;)

_ "She's certainly an impressive specimen, isn't she? Shows such promise." Andrew Ryan tapped the glass wall in front of him with his cane and the little girl on the other side paused to wave at him._

_ "You condemn her to a difficult life," said Dr. Tenenbaum. _

_ "As difficult as the lives of those who toil without such talents?"_

_ Dr. Tenenbaum sighed, making notes on her clipboard. "Her reaction time has improved, and this morning she managed to navigate the obstacle course without triggering a single alarm."_

_ "Wonderful! My little one is always improving! I do loathe stagnation, dear doctor, for stagnation leads inevitably to decay. So many citizens of Rapture are stagnant – chinks in the Great Chain! But this child is the start of something new. She'll be something to aspire to." Ryan walked over to the control panel and tapped the button which opened the door between the observation room and the testing area. _

_ The girl skipped through the open door and winced as her bare feet met cold metal. Seeing this, Ryan lifted her up in his arms and spun her around once, beaming at her._

_ "Mr. Ryan! Didja see me? Was I good today? Will you come again tomorrow?" The girl's tiny voice was bursting with eagerness._

_ "You were superb, m'dear! I'm afraid I can't come see you tomorrow, but I'm sure I can visit the day after. I must make time for Rapture's little prodigy, after all." He set her down with a laugh and, with a nod to Dr. Tenenbaum, he strode out of the observation room._

_ "Doctor, what's a prodigy?" asked the little girl._

_ "It means you are intelligent beyond your years," explained the doctor. The bitterness in her voice was not lost on the girl. She clasped her hands behind her back and looked at her feet._

_ "I'm sorry, doctor. I know you don't like me to show off for Mr. Ryan."_

_ "Do not worry, little one. Come." Dr. Tenenbaum led the girl through the halls back to her room._

_ "Doctor," said the girl as she climbed onto her bed, "why don't you like me to show off for Mr. Ryan?"_

_ "He plans to make you into a weapon," murmured the doctor, "and you encourage him."_


	3. Chapter 3

I do not own any part of BioShock. Some characters in this fanfiction are OCs.

This fanfiction is rated M for language, adult content, violence, and mortal peril. ;)

It was several weeks before Artemis could get out of bed. Silas had done a poor job of drugging her – she thought he had probably come close to killing her. When she finally ventured forth from the back room of Rapture Records, her heart fell to see the state the shop was in. A few corpses, splicers no doubt, were slumped near the doorway. Broken records and glass from the display cases littered the floor. Posters were torn from the walls, which were littered with bullet holes, and the register had fallen off the counter and sprung open permanently.

Silas was behind the counter loading a shotgun. He looked up as she walked in and awkwardly went back to arranging his ammunition and weapons behind the counter.

"I'm…so sorry," she said softly. She was still angry with him, but for all her anger she would not have wished this on him.

"Damn splicers. I think Sander Cohen keeps letting a few more in every now and again to make things more interesting for the sane folk still living here." Silas sighed, putting down the chemical thrower he was polishing. "I know you're itching for some exercise, but I really must ask you to stay in here for a few more weeks at least. Look at the state of you, you can barely stand. But in the meantime you might help me clear up a bit in here; as you can see I've had some difficult customers."

Somewhat softened by pity, Artemis did as Silas asked and cleaned up the shop over the next week or so. She couldn't do much in the way of repairs, but at least the floors were swept, all the surfaces wiped down, and the corpses piled neatly by the door.

When she at last set down the final trash bag and wiped the sweat from her brow, Silas wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. She shoved him away and stormed moodily into the back room where she fiddled with a phonograph she had been trying to repair.

A month later, her strength fully restored, she slung a machine gun over her shoulder, stuck a wrench in her belt, and kissed Silas on the cheek.

"I'll back before dinner. Gonna see if I can't thin the ranks out there."

"If you see Cohen, give him my regards."

Artemis grabbed the oldest of the corpses around the wrist and dragged it out of Rapture Records with her.

Things were quiet as she made her way towards Fleet Hall. She figured she might as well look for Cohen, since she was bound to run into splicers along the way. The first one she found was alone in the atrium, a thuggish splicer dragging a machine gun along behind him. She crept up behind him, mingling with his shadow as she pulled the wrench silently from her belt. The weight of it felt healthy in her hand, and she lifted the tool above her head and brought it down heavily across the back of the splicer's head. He fell to the ground, twitching, and Artemis knelt down and snapped his neck. Tucking the wrench back in her belt she searched the corpse, taking a crème cake and some ammo before continuing on.

Artemis found herself creeping around a corner towards two splicers casually chatting over a body as they checked it for adam.

"Pish. I know what you're gonna say Bill, and it's bullshit. She don't exist. Just a ghost Ryan made up to make us behave."

"Still. I hear Atlas is looking for her."

"Not so!"

"Wouldn't that be a fright? Them two teamed up together, roaming around Rapture?"

"I'm telling you Bill. There is no Sitter."

Just then the ground started shaking. Artemis smelled it before she saw it; a putrid odor wafted over her so that she had to cover her mouth to muffle her gagging. Around the corner stomped a huge figure wearing an odd jumpsuit and a gigantic helmet that seemed to be modeled after the bathysphere. He looked at the splicers like they were ants, totally unworthy of his attention. Artemis saw one of the splicers crouch, ready to jump up to the ceiling, while the other pulled a gun from inside his vest. With one wide, swift swipe of her wrench she had dropped the spider splicer and in the next moment she had the thuggish splicer by the throat. He struggled and she slammed him against the wall, knocking the gun from his hand. The giant stood watching for another second before moving slowly away.

"What was that?" she demanded, releasing her grip on the splicer's throat enough for him to speak.

"That was adam you just cost me, you filthy-"

Artemis slammed him against the wall again, harder this time. "I'm asking nicely. What was that thing?"

The splicer glared at her and said, "That was Big Daddy. Ryan just had a bunch of them created. What with the Sitter gone and the chaos round here lately, the Little Sisters are uh…shall we say…disappearing."

"And you said Atlas is looking for the Sitter?"

"Sure enough he's asking around about her." The splicer was starting to get antsy, and he thought he was being slick reaching for his gun. Artemis kicked it away impatiently.

"Why?"

"How would I know? Maybe he wants to team up with her! Though I'd feel better if he's lookin' to kill her, as he well might be. Now let GO of me bitch!"

Artemis let the splicer go. He ran, grabbing his gun as he went. Artemis pulled out her own gun, aimed and fired. The splicer dropped less than ten yards from where she stood.

"The Sitter," she said. "Damn." She barely had time to register this information when four splicers jumped out at her.

She took her wrench to the temple of the nearest splicer; as he crumpled she felt a blow on her left shoulder. She spun around to kick the pipe out of the splicer's hands. Another splicer caught her from behind with an electric shock. Artemis spasmed briefly, and when she regained control she grabbed her machine gun and took out the three remaining splicers. It had been close - and normally she didn't like to use her gun. It made her nervous, firing rounds in a submerged environment where the walls were often made of glass.

Her knees trembled and she knew it was time to go home. Well, her score today was seven. Not a bad start.


End file.
